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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003906">let me weather you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier'>Klavier</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>like real people do [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dog Dad Kim Mingyu, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Incredibly Sappy, M/M, Reunions, Romance is Stored in the Minghao, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:14:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Welcome home,” Mingyu mumbles, nudging his warm face into Minghao’s neck. His smile is audible. “You got in early. How was the flight?”</p>
<p>Minghao rolls to face him. Even through dry eyes, Mingyu looks like a knockout. His head is pillowed on his own shoulder, his smile like the open face of a flower. Minghao takes in the smell of him—subtle and warm, laundry mixed with crayon wax—and fully relaxes for the first time in weeks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>like real people do [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let me weather you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is standalone plotless fluff, but the universe would make a lot more sense if you’ve read the first part in the series!<br/>Recently I noticed <i>give me a tempest</i> hit 600 kudos and felt this overwhelming, sentimental gratitude T.T thank you so much for the kindnesses shown to that fic. It’s one I hold close to my heart.<br/>Sappy nonsense inspired by a full year of quarantine + <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZkKYrar0Dw">this song.</a> Hope you enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao’s flight lands at Incheon on a frozen Thursday afternoon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hails a taxi by himself, lugging a suitcase heavier than he is, and curses Mingyu’s job the whole ride home. Stupid primary school keeping regular, stupid hours so that Mingyu can’t pick him up from the airport. How stupid. Minghao could be asleep in the passenger seat of his own car right now, and instead—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s watching snow smother the city in a taxi that smells vaguely like puke. Minghao pinches himself to stay awake as they snake through downtown, the traffic a slow white river. When they arrive, he shoves a wad of cash at the driver and ejects himself onto the sidewalk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Home. <em> Finally. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao is out of breath three steps up the staircase. He inhales a snowflake and coughs until his eyes water. The joy of returning to Seoul after three weeks in Qingdao thrums underneath a bone-deep exhaustion. He’s tired; he never sleeps properly in strange beds. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, that’s not true. He just never sleeps properly without Mingyu. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The apartment is empty. Mingyu must’ve taken the dog to class for a project. With the curtains drawn and the heater turned low, Minghao is almost spooked to enter. He kicks his shoes onto the shoe rack and abandons the suitcase beside the couch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the fridge, Minghao finds a box of egg tarts with a sticky note on the top. In Mingyu’s clumsy handwriting, it says 吃吃吃—eat, eat!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So he does, box in his lap, ass on the couch, savoring each bite until he can't keep his eyes open any longer. Then he pitches sideways and falls dead asleep.</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One moment, he’s dreaming. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Next, there’s a heavy warmth pressing into his back. Familiar weight settles along Minghao’s spine, cuddling him into the cushions and coaxing him slowly out of sleep. A thick arm snakes around his waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Welcome home,” Mingyu mumbles, nudging his warm face into Minghao’s neck. His smile is audible. “You got in early. How was the flight?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao rolls to face him. Even through dry eyes, Mingyu looks like a knockout. His head is pillowed on his own shoulder, his smile like the open face of a flower. Minghao takes in the smell of him—subtle and warm, laundry mixed with crayon wax—and fully relaxes for the first time in three weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Minghao says hoarsely. “Flight was good. It snowed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu laughs. “I noticed. Are you cold?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not anymore.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Minghao reaches out anyway, molding a hand to Mingyu’s waist. He slips a few fingertips below the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling the warm thrumming of his skin and the movement of his abdomen as he breathes. He could stay in this position for weeks. Months.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao stifles a yawn. “How was class?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s smile falls right off. “The Grade 3 students discovered the joys of sniffing glue. Don’t ask.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao stutters into laughter, still half-asleep and prone to disbelief, as Mingyu kisses him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s soft and slow, a reunion kiss more than anything. Mingyu’s lips are dry. Chaste, for once. Minghao winds an arm around his shoulders and tugs their bodies closer, chest-to-chest, braiding their legs together. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second kiss is longer. Deeper. This is a proper <em> I missed you</em>. Mingyu’s lips part with a gentle sigh, his nose bumping against Minghao’s as he shuffles even closer. His hands know their way around Minghao’s body, caressing his jaw, sliding down to the bend of his waist. He makes a tiny, happy noise in the back of his throat when Minghao threads a tender hand through his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu pulls back and peppers kisses all over Minghao’s face, heedless of the way Minghao’s nose scrunches up. Jaw. Cheekbone. Temple. Eyelid. All pressed delicately by his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It would be embarrassing if anyone could see—but here, in their private bubble, in their shared apartment, Minghao relents. He sweetens under Mingyu’s mouth, tilts his face into the kisses, biting his lips on a helpless smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao cards his fingers through Mingyu’s hair. Happiness is its own sun inside his chest. “So, did you miss me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu plants a final kiss on the tip of his nose. “Duh. It’s too quiet here without you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t make a lot of noise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, quiet like—" Mingyu tries to shrug, but one shoulder is pinned underneath him. “Spiritually.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao snorts. He props himself on an elbow and pushes Mingyu flat, into a more comfortable position. The couch isn’t big enough to hold them both like this, so Minghao is forced to throw an arm and a hip over Mingyu’s torso. A large hand settles reflexively on his thigh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Minghao’s palm lingers and massages over Mingyu’s chest longer than necessary... well. It can’t be helped. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Looking down at him like this—lit by a cloudy glow from the window, light glinting off the rings on their left hands—makes Minghao’s heart waver dangerously. A short, electric surge rattles through his rib cage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leans down for another kiss, lazy and wet and content. Mingyu reciprocates, slips his tongue into Minghao’s mouth, goes pliant like he knows Minghao likes it. Heat simmers between them. Minghao presses his thigh meaningfully between Mingyu’s legs and swallows his responsive moan. The air thickens.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then Mingyu’s stomach growls, louder than a pride of fucking lions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao is laughing before he breaks the kiss. Mingyu deflates against the couch, cheeks pink, pressing his lips into a stupid little line. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ummm, dinner?” His lashes flutter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re cute.” Minghao grabs his jaw and kisses him once more, emphasizing the wet smacking sound. It makes Mingyu wiggle and grin. “Let’s eat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They sit up properly to rearrange their clothes. Minghao is hopeless—slacks wrinkled from the flight <em> and </em>the nap—but somehow Mingyu looks wind-tousled and regal. Infuriating.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’ll never get used to it, the sucker punch of looking at Kim Mingyu and realizing that’s his <em> husband. </em>What an immeasurably lucky feeling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A neighbor’s heating unit gutters to life and hums through the wall. Shadows loom from the abandoned suitcase. As awareness comes back to him, Minghao pauses. Something in the apartment feels… off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao stands to flick on the lamp. “Wait, where’s Cha Cha? She didn’t greet me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“About that.” Mingyu goes taut as a wire. He looks at the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mingyu. What the hell.” Minghao twirls through the living room, does a quick inventory. Peeks under the coffee table. “Is she okay? Where is she?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu springs to his feet. “She’s fine! She’s in the kitchen! I can explain…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Minghao is already there, skidding barefoot over the tile and stopping himself with one palm braced on the refrigerator. The fairy lights reflect like stars off the countertop. His jaw hits the floor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Strapped into her abominable little dog stroller, Cha Cha’s ears perk up when she sees Minghao. She barks twice and wags her tail <em> thump-thump-thump! </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her fluffy, bright blue tail.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A perfect match for her fluffy, bright blue ears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao’s blood pressure spikes through the stratosphere. “<em>You dyed our dog blue</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Technically the students did,” Mingyu hedges, making the situation even worse. “You know how we’re learning about photosynthesis in class—and I keep running out of lab ideas because all my old materials are for Grade 1—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Marching over to Cha Cha, Minghao loops her leash free from the stroller and lifts her noodley body for closer inspection. She’s delighted to see him, if the panting and wriggling are any indication. Wheezing in her chest belies her age.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t pee on me,” Minghao says sternly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She licks his chin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu tip-toes after him and continues, “We did the celery and food dye experiment, right? But the students didn’t seem to get it. They kept bombing the quizzes. So I gave them an example of how food dye stains living things that <em> don’t </em> photosynthesize, and it really helped!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately, that’s a reasonable explanation. Minghao doesn’t know whether his shock will melt into annoyance or humor or some weary mix of the two. He picks at Cha Cha’s ears, affirming that she’s not uncomfortable or unclean. She doesn’t smell like chemicals at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damn Kim Mingyu and his perfect mix of spontaneity and responsibility.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao sets Cha Cha down. She hobbles over slowly to lick Mingyu’s feet. When the silence thickens, Mingyu glances up nervously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you actually angry?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You dyed our poor, elderly dog <em> blue,”</em> Minghao sighs around the horrible urge to laugh. “What do you think? It’s bad enough you walk her around the neighborhood in a stroller.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s sheepish face goes pink. He can probably tell by tone that Minghao isn’t mad, but he still approaches slowly. One hand rises to tangle at the bottom of Minghao’s shirt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If it helps, she liked the attention,” he says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I bet she did.” Minghao lets himself be reeled closer until they’re a breath apart. “She takes after you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey,” Mingyu whines.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their proximity like this, in the kitchen, suddenly reminds him of their first kiss. It feels like a lifetime ago. Minghao can still remember the way Mingyu shivered against his mouth, the wonderful shock of intimacy, the way he tasted. Even after all these years, Mingyu still tastes the same. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao can’t stay mad at him for longer than ten seconds. A fond smile crawls onto his face. “How long does the color last?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Five to six washes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you take pictures?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I can show you while we’re eating.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okayyy,” Minghao sighs again, but this time it catches on the edge of a giggle. Their dog just looks so <em> silly</em>. He’s ridiculously endeared. “Fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu darts down to press a kiss to the corner of Minghao’s mouth. He lets his lips linger there, warm breath skating over Minghao’s jaw and throat. When he leans back, there’s an unbearable affection in his gaze. “You can go shower if you want. I’ll reheat the stew.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>God. Minghao missed him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Or,” he offers, settling both hands on Mingyu’s waist. “You could join me. If you don’t think you’ll starve.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The luxury of marriage is having all the time in the world to reprioritize. Mingyu nods so fast, his bangs blur into his eyes. Minghao flicks them away and traces a finger over his eyebrow. He’s in need of a haircut—they both are, really.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure!” Mingyu says eagerly. “I mean, I could shower first. Let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But because Mingyu is Mingyu, he needs to tidy up beforehand. He files his work binder and hangs his keys and folds the stroller with one hand, which Minghao can’t watch. The deadly combination of his husband and a stroller always makes a weird, fluttery feeling erupt in Minghao’s gut. He’s not ready to investigate that further yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He goes ahead to the bathroom and digs out the jar of expensive coconut body wash from the cupboard. It was a gift from Junhui two birthdays ago. Minghao has enjoyed saving it for special occasions, because it makes his skin feel like silk and smell like a tropical paradise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tonight, for whatever reason, feels special. He lights a complementary ocean-scented candle and loses himself in the heady scent before Mingyu knocks on the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao leans back against the sink and starts popping the buttons on his shirt. “Come in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu opens the door and his eyes fly wide. He understands Minghao’s posture as the invitation it is; they’ve done this dance enough times. He kicks the door shut too hard and Minghao has to duck his head to avoid laughing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both of Mingyu’s hands rise to eclipse Minghao’s. They work the final buttons together, the heat of their breath mingling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look good.” Mingyu tugs the shirt off his shoulders impatiently. “Did you eat well in Qingdao? Did you go back to that seafood restaurant I liked?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Only Mingyu would think <em> did you eat well? </em>is acceptable foreplay conversation. It’s disgusting, how much Minghao’s heart expands for this person. He feels it like a sweet ache.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao unhooks Mingyu’s belt and starts sliding it off. “I didn’t get a chance. Maybe I’ll save it, only eat there during the summer trip when you can come with me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu takes off his own shirt, and the gorgeous expanse of his chest is enough to momentarily take Minghao’s breath away. The belt gets tossed onto the floor with a metallic <em> clink</em>. Evidently Mingyu didn’t fuck up his workout regime in the last three weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, Mingyu notices the attention. A shy little smile grows on his face. Minghao slides a hand to the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss before he can say anything vain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu opens for him, easy as breathing. He braces both hands on the counter and skates his tongue along Minghao’s lips. When Minghao grinds their hips together, Mingyu makes a hitched noise in his throat. It suddenly feels like they've been separated longer, like their bodies are reuniting after three years apart, not weeks. Urgency ticks up the temperature of the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They break apart. Mingyu rests his forehead against Minghao’s, chest heaving. “We need to actually get in the shower, or…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They separate, hazy-eyed and smiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao turns on the water to the hottest setting. Mingyu reaches over him and turns it down a touch. They exchange an exasperated look that speaks of disagreements long buried. Minghao considers arguing the point—but doesn’t. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He steps under the spray and douses his head, letting warm water trickle down his neck and over his nose and mouth. His skin feels sensitive from the whiplash of the day. Despite the nap, he’s still a bit tired. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu plasters himself to Minghao’s back and leeches the runoff water from his shoulders. Their legs tangle. The shower isn’t really big enough for two, but they’ve had some practice making it work. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao turns inside Mingyu’s arms to face him, blinking water from his eyes. Spray pummels his back like a masseuse. He can almost close his eyes and imagine they’re under a waterfall in Jeju, or someplace equally romantic, instead of a cramped shower with hard water stains.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then Mingyu presses a kiss to his forehead, and Minghao thinks location never really mattered anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pass me the soap?” he asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu hands it over. Minghao lathers his palms with coconut foam and offers the treasure to Mingyu. They serve the mesh sponge back and forth like a volleyball, make faces at each other while rinsing. Eventually the sponge is spiked into Mingyu's nose. He breaks into laughter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reaching out to thumb circles over Minghao’s hip, he says, “I know I said it earlier, but I missed you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too.” Minghao slides closer, flattens a palm over the scaffolding of Mingyu’s rib cage. Feels his pounding heart. “The trip felt longer this time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a genuine melancholy sitting in his voice that makes Minghao pause. He forgets that Mingyu can be sensitive about this—the cyclic work assignments abroad, the time spent apart. He’s always been a homebody and he’s happiest when they’re together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reunions are bittersweet sometimes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao turns them sideways so their shoulders bisect the spray. He pushes Mingyu against the wall and kisses gently over his chin and jaw, leaning down to his throat. With his tongue, he traces nonsensical shapes onto Mingyu’s skin. He glides over his chest, mouthing at his nipple. Every touch is a sentence in the language only they know, and Minghao is confessing his appreciation, his gratitude, his joy... his love. Steam collects around their bodies like a blanket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu runs his nails up and down Minghao’s back, arches off the wall to provide a better angle. Everything’s hot and wet and feels <em> good. </em>Minghao sucks a light bruise into the hollow of his collarbone. Relishes in the taste of his skin, its salt and soap and neutrality. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He loses himself in his task. It takes a few reedy calls of his name for Minghao to hear Mingyu over the drumming water. When he straightens up, he feels like he’s resurfacing after a long time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Droplets are racing down Mingyu’s nose and jaw like little crystals. Minghao wipes them away with a thumb. “What’d you say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should, um.” Mingyu’s throat bobs. “You should fuck me tonight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tonight?” Minghao teases, rubbing his thumb over the swell of Mingyu’s bottom lip and watching the way his mouth parts. “Not right now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu groans and thunks his head back against the tile. He’s gorgeous like this, squirming and soaking wet. No one else gets to work him up like this, to see him so vulnerable, and it steadies Minghao with purpose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right now sounds really sexy, but you <em> know </em> I’d slip,” Mingyu says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao laughs. “Okay. True.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t end up in the hospital twice in three months. That’s embarrassing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To be fair, you bet Seokmin you could do a spiral on your first try ice skating.” He slides his hand down to Mingyu’s shoulder, where he’d needed three stitches from a nasty fall on the ice over winter break. When Minghao received that call, he’d never driven so fast in his life. “That was dumb. We’re not kids anymore.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu purses his lips. He slicks back Minghao’s wet hair with one hand. “Well, you make me feel young.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words strike him as a little too profound for the moment. He can’t remember the last time they went out dancing all night, like they used to—and yet. Mingyu makes him feel young, too. It’s not just the sex, he thinks. There’s something intransient about the way they treat each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Later,” Minghao promises, reaching for the shampoo. “I’ll make you feel <em> good.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The smile he gets in response is enough to turn his insides to goo. Minghao keeps his hands to himself and rushes through the process of washing his hair. The smell of coconut rests pleasantly in the back of his throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu finishes washing first and leans against the wall, one shoulder half-underneath the spray, heavy eyes tracking Minghao’s every move. It makes it hard to concentrate. Mingyu’s attention has a certain magnetism, a current of electricity that prickles at Minghao’s awareness even when he’s facing the other direction. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop staring at my ass,” he mumbles, and Mingyu laughs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They bundle themselves into matching fluffy towels afterward. Mingyu practically runs to the kitchen in his boxers and bathrobe and puppy-faced slippers. By the time Minghao is finished patting toner and moisturizer onto his face, stew is simmering on the stove.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cha Cha snores underneath the dining table, a blue-and-white mop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao creeps up behind Mingyu and wraps both arms around his waist. “Smells good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s nothing special.” Mingyu shrugs, shifting his weight back to better support Minghao leaning into him. “Tofu stew with clams, they were on sale.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he turns to pop open the rice cooker, he sees Minghao’s shirt and pauses. It’s loose around the shoulders, wide at the hem—and embroidered with the rich navy emblem of Mingyu’s alma mater, Yonsei.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s mine!” Mingyu tugs at the bottom of the shirt, crow’s feet crinkling around his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao bats his hands away and moves to serve the rice. “Oops. It was on my side of the drawer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I paid 40,000₩ for that shirt. It’s not meant for sleeping.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then why is it so soft?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu huffs a laugh and doesn’t answer. Their movements around the kitchen follow a pseudo-choreography, as they weave between each other on the way to cutlery and napkins and cups. When Mingyu accidentally bumps their hips together, Minghao steadies him with a hand on his waist. It’s an easy routine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao serves their rice in periwinkle glass bowls he pawned from an antique store in Osaka, the one and only time his work had sent him to the Japan office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whenever he touches their smooth bodies, he’s reminded of the way Mingyu clung to him the day he returned, arms like shackles, saying <em> missed you </em> so many times the words devolved into sound without meaning. They fucked face-to-face that night. Again and again like teenagers. Mingyu was pink and toothy and <em> loud</em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao doesn’t think tonight will be the same. Age has sanded down the edges of Mingyu’s desire—at least, a little. He’s more polite about it now. They both are.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao pauses with three fingers on the handle of the refrigerator, catching sight of his frizzy hair in the stainless steel reflection. He pushes back his damp bangs as if he could physically dislodge the weird sense of nostalgia that’s eating his heart like a cavity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe Mingyu’s not the only one who gets touchy about reunions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you want anything to drink?” Minghao asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns over one shoulder to watch Mingyu set the table with stew, steam curling into his hair like ribbons.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever you’re having.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Chardonnay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu makes a low whistle. “You’re in <em> such </em>a mood tonight!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever.” Minghao feels the back of his neck heat up. “I’m allowed to celebrate. The Qingdao executives signed a deal with Nike, we’re expanding into athleisure next quarter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, that’s great.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah. Jeonghan’s thrilled he might get to renovate studio 6.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They settle into comfortable dinnertime chat. Mingyu is chock full of stories about the Grade 3 students. He has a hundred photos of their grubby hands gently massaging food dye into Cha Cha’s fur. Kids <em> and </em>dogs. Absolutely lethal, even to Minghao’s fortified sensibilities. He ends up forwarding himself every single photo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao pauses on a blurry photo of Mingyu hoisting Cha Cha under one arm like a sack of rice, his gloves dripping an excruciating aquamarine shade of blue. The classroom sprawls behind him. A gap-toothed student hangs off his leg and throws up a peace sign.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Who took this?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wonwoo. I convinced him to help me with the clean-up." Mingyu's tongue darts out to catch the loose end of a green onion on his soup spoon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When their bowls are scraping empty, Minghao's phone starts to vibrate with a call from his mother. Her ID photo eclipses the close-up of Cha Cha's smiling maw. He answers on the first ring.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you back in Seoul now?” She asks straight away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Settling back into his chair, Minghao smiles. “Hi. Yes, I’m home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu hears the switch into Mandarin and offers a <em> look </em> from across the table. His eyes gleam. They have tickets to Anshan for Lunar New Year next month and they’re keeping it a secret from Minghao's parents. Good thing this isn't a video call, though, because the gig would be up right now. Mingyu is simply awful at containing his excitement to human proportions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao smothers a smile and has a nice, normal conversation with his mom. Lays it on thick how much he misses home, despite the recent travel. Bemoans the scarcity of Dongbei food in Qingdao. She makes all the appropriate sympathetic noises and advises him to dress warmly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s been snowing here all day.” Minghao cranes his neck toward the back door to verify his claim. The sky is reminiscent of a navy and black oil painting. “The balcony looks gorgeous.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Send me a photo!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mm, okay. Or maybe I’ll paint it for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her voice warms. “I’d like that. I haven’t seen your paintings in a long time. You should send us one for the house, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While they catch up, Mingyu begins stacking dishes in the sink. Minghao sternly waves him off from the washing. His mother catches on and asks about Mingyu. Her voice changes again, hushing into something private and fond.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She doesn’t know what they are—but she <em> knows. </em> It chokes Minghao up sometimes. He's looking forward to proper introductions. He bites down a watery smile, answers her questions, and wishes her a good night. Then he hangs up and takes a breath so deep he feels it tingle in his toes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao rushes through the dishes. He almost knocks over a leaning tower of bowls in his haste; he forces his slippery fingers to be meticulous. Mingyu would be annoyed if he dropped anything and it shattered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He dries his hands on the dish towel and spares a head-scratch for Cha Cha before making his way to the bedroom. The door is propped open, spilling faint jazz into the living room. Minghao peeks inside to see the space lit singularly by the bedside lamp and a trail of clothes splattered on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s propped in bed, sheets pulled up to his waist, very obviously naked. He thumbs through his phone, unaware he’s being watched. He hums along sweetly to the lyrics on the speaker. <em> Stand by your man, give him two arms to cling to… </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stunning. Minghao sneaks a photo on his phone. This image, he knows, he’ll remember for a long time: Mingyu a pillar of gold nested in white sheets, the lines of his body smooth and relaxed. A knot of heat coils in his gut.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu looks up and his whole face goes soft and happy. He tosses his phone on the bedside table and holds out both arms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao’s never moved so quickly in his life. He tucks himself against Mingyu’s side, the sheet a meaningless barrier between them, and pulls him into a kiss. His mouth is cool and tastes of Chardonnay. With one hand on Mingyu’s chest, Minghao can feel his heart pounding steady and true.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu draws back with a wet smacking noise. “Why are you still wearing clothes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God,” Minghao sighs around a smile. “<em>Now </em> who’s in a mood tonight?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu sticks out his chin. "Me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Giggling, Minghao sits up and strips away the Yonsei shirt. He rolls on top of Mingyu, caging him in with his knees, and leans down to kiss him again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wasn’t wrong; he can tell the sort of mood Mingyu is in tonight by the way he relaxes, the way he slips his tongue past the seam of Minghao’s lips almost like he’s shy. Minghao pets his hair and kisses him slower, slower.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s fingers dip into the waistband of his joggers and tug. He licks Minghao’s teeth when he smiles. Minghao wriggles and their chins bump but he does, finally, strip down to his underwear. The sheet gets pushed below their ankles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There is so much joy in this already—Mingyu’s soft skin like a bed for him alone, the muted piano track, the way their bare thighs slide together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao loses himself in it. The warmth, the rhythm, the low noises that Mingyu makes when he drags teeth over his bottom lip. His fingers scratch lightly at Mingyu’s abdomen and he feels a shiver in response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu always lets him set the pace. Tonight Minghao wants to go as slow as possible. He wants to make his presence felt, to retroactively relieve Mingyu’s loneliness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deliberately Minghao grinds his crotch down. He feels Mingyu’s growing interest through his own underwear; at the same moment, Mingyu’s hips twitch up. Though the angle isn’t perfect, the pressure is good. Mingyu makes a breathy noise and starts kissing down Minghao’s jaw, over the column of his throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They stay like that for a while, until Mingyu is huffing displeased sighs and rocking his hips more urgently into Minghao, almost knocking his smaller frame off-balance. He’s shameless. It makes Minghao smile. He’ll never get tired of this, honestly. He posts a hand on Mingyu’s chest and sits up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s lashes flutter. “You having fun?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t like it when you take forever.” Mingyu says, voice catching on a whine. He loops both hands loosely around Minghao’s waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao can’t tell if he’s acting cute or that was unintentional. Either way, it melts him like butter. He shifts backward and slithers between Mingyu’s thighs. A leg jerks up, probably surprise and anticipation both, and Minghao takes advantage to lean over and nip at the silky skin behind Mingyu’s knee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu releases a shaky breath. “You can… you can leave a mark.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you want me to?” Minghao pauses with a hand splayed over one thigh, pushing Mingyu’s legs further apart. “Here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao hums an approval. That gives him an excuse to ignore Mingyu’s cock a little longer, drag this out to luxurious lengths. He looks up through his bangs, pressing kisses from knee to mid-thigh, just to watch the way Mingyu’s eyes go bottomless. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At the upper thigh, he bites. Mingyu squirms and falls limp. Minghao rubs a thumb over the small pink bruise. He’s struck with the ill-timed wish to paint this image. Later, he thinks, refocusing on Mingyu’s hipbone. He sucks a matching mark there, and again higher, and again. Mingyu threads a hand into his hair and makes a soft noise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao drags the bridge of his nose along Mingyu’s inner thigh. The hand in his hair flexes, nudging him in the right direction, and Minghao relents. He trails his lips along Mingyu’s half-hard cock, enjoying the heavy exhale he hears from above. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally, when he’s teased enough to see wrinkles emerge on Mingyu’s forehead, Minghao takes him into his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s thighs tense. Minghao slides his tongue up and down the shaft, pausing over the slit. His hand around the base is gentle and habitual. Mingyu makes a bitten-off noise when he sinks lower and relaxes his jaw. Then he starts moving—but <em> slowly. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao loves this. It feels like he’s taking Mingyu apart piece by piece and he’s not even inside him yet. His whole body flushes red-hot as Mingyu’s hips jerk toward his throat, pushing deeper, desperate for more. He pinches Mingyu’s thigh and looks up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> I’m not gonna hold you down</em>, he tries to convey sternly with his eyes. <em> Stay still for me. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s teeth slide into his bottom lip. He draws a shallow breath and nods like he got the message. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Smug, Minghao does pick up the pace. He hollows his cheeks and works his hand until Mingyu is full and whining underneath him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he pulls off and wipes the spit from his mouth. “You’re so pretty like this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As expected, Mingyu blushes all the way down his neck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re a sap,” he mumbles, burying his face in his hands to hide a smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao climbs up and removes the hands. He stares down at his husband—flushed, a little out of breath, and still so fucking beautiful it makes his chest ache. Mingyu turns his wrist and laces their fingers together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you,” Minghao says, and spreads his body over Mingyu’s to kiss him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu makes a strangled sound. An arm winds tight around Minghao’s waist, like he needs something to cling to. The playlist must reach an end, because the music tapers faintly away. All Minghao can hear is the wet sound of their kissing. All he can feel is the ragged rise and fall of Mingyu’s chest, the hardness of his body when Minghao ruts against him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu pulls back, hair a riot on the pillow. “I love you.” He licks and nips down Minghao’s throat, one hand sliding down to grip Minghao’s ass. “Want you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s difficult to remember that Minghao wants to take this slow—to drag it out, make Mingyu fall apart. Gently he breaks free of Mingyu’s hold and pulls off his own underwear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he settles back on Mingyu’s thighs and tugs him up by the scruff of the neck. “Come here, baby,” he coaxes, arranging their bodies into a comfortable sitting position.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu catches on immediately. He reaches back, eyes bright, for the lube hidden under the bed frame. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You haven’t called me that in a while,” Mingyu says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao takes the bottle and warms the slick substance over his fingers. <em> Come here, baby</em>. “It slipped out. Is that okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course.” Mingyu bumps their foreheads together and drops a shy kiss on the shell of Minghao’s ear. “I still like it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao reaches between their hips, aligns their cocks in one hand, and strokes. Heat sparks up his spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu hooks an arm behind his neck and drags him into a kiss, fucking his tongue into Minghao’s mouth. Filthy and perfect. The angle isn’t ideal—Mingyu’s spine is curved to fit—but the closeness and the pressure are nice. Minghao twists his wrist. They lose track of the kissing, mouths brushing with heavy breaths.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the muscles in Mingyu’s thighs start to tense, Minghao knows to slow down. He teases the head of Mingyu’s cock with his long fingers, enjoying the way Mingyu whines into his mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re gonna kill me.” Mingyu drops his forehead against Minghao’s shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wanna make you feel good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do, you always do.” Mingyu’s arms drop around his waist. He lowers Minghao onto his back, accidentally kicking the pillows off the bed in the process. His voice is thick with laughter. “But we’re gonna take all night at this rate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He kisses Minghao with intent, sliding his tongue urgently between his lips. Minghao lets him lead before breaking it off with a stuttering laugh. Joy bubbles in chest like champagne.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you have a libido but no stamina, is that what you’re saying?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu makes a wounded noise. “No, hey, I work out.” He lifts an arm and flexes his bicep, showing off like Minghao hasn’t known his body in every way. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao tugs that arm to his mouth and bites. It’s a kitten bite, more playful than painful, but he sucks long enough to leave a pink imprint of his teeth behind. Mingyu stares at the mark for a moment, then lunges for the lube.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Coating his own fingers, he settles back on the bed. Minghao reflexively sits up to get closer—to do the job himself, as usual—but Mingyu nudges him back with a heel. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Watch,” he demands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao swallows. “Okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is karma for teasing, isn’t it? He kind of expected this. His hands itch anyway; he wants to be the one opening Mingyu up. Mingyu’s too impatient not to rush the job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And rush he does—adding a second finger before Minghao would dare. The pressure is uncomfortable, he can tell from the way Mingyu’s eyes flutter closed. Stubborn idiot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Languid as a cat, pretending that he’s just stretching, Minghao slides up the sheets to lay at Mingyu’s shoulder. From this angle he can’t see between his legs. Mingyu’s mouth is parted on a groan. He hasn’t opened his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao gets one hand on Mingyu’s chest, playing with his nipple, and one hand on his own cock. Mingyu’s hips twitch. His eyes open at half-mast, his pupils blown wide when he looks at Minghao.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He means to say <em> relax, baby, slow down, </em>but that’s not what happens.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck.” The word punches itself out of Minghao. “The way you look right now—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu’s breath hitches in his throat. Minghao’s hand crawls to his open mouth. He slips two fingers between his lips, and the noise Mingyu makes almost tips him over the edge right then and there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Immediately he sucks Minghao’s fingers deeper, swirling his hot tongue over the sensitive pads. Minghao didn’t mean to speed things along, but that’s what happens. Mingyu’s hand emerges, sticky with lube, and he rolls to face Minghao.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao gently pulls his fingers free, heart in his throat. “You good?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“‘M good,” Mingyu says. His teeth poke into his lower lip when he smiles, out of breath. “Come here, baby.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao feels himself blush from the ears down. Mingyu <em> knows </em> he’s weak for that, always deploys it at the most devastating moments. Like when he’s turning on one side and looking back to raise a coy eyebrow. Flirt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu is less flexible than he used to be, but they can still fuck like this—drawn-out on their sides. His body is so much <em> bigger</em>, it always gives Minghao a thrill to take charge, to watch Mingyu lie back and trust him. He lays a reverent hand on Mingyu's waist.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao pushes in so slowly, he can feel his heart pound and pound before their hips slot together. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's hot. Held tight. Minghao has to take deep breaths, damp forehead pressed to Mingyu’s back, fingernails digging into his leg. He hasn’t been here in a while. He remembers his vow to go slow, to make it good for his husband, and only then does Minghao move.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu keens. His head arches back. Minghao kisses at the vulnerable base of his neck, licking over the ridges of his spine, and Mingyu shudders. His body leans back to meet each slow roll of Minghao’s hips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The thrusts are heavy and long. Mingyu’s thighs tremble. Minghao’s hand under his knee slips; he readjusts and the angle brushes the head of his cock against Mingyu’s prostate. Mingyu jerks like he’s been electrocuted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” he gasps. “There, faster…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Minghao slots his teeth over Mingyu’s shoulder and does not go faster. He pulls all the way out and slides back in, hitting the same sweet spot, pulling a garbled mess of vowels from low in Mingyu’s throat. Exactly the way he wants.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He fucks Mingyu like that for a while, blissfully losing track of time, until Mingyu is trembling and working his hips back. His hand is a knot on the sheets. If Minghao could see his face, he knows it would be flushed. Lips pink and open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I missed you,” Minghao says, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Mingyu’s neck. “Missed you so much. ”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Missed you,” Mingyu says, voice wet. He arches his spine back. “Don’t tease anymore, c’mon.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One hand goes desperately to his cock, dampening the sheets. A tenderness blooms in Minghao. He groans. As much as he wants to make this last, he wants to give Mingyu what he asks for even more. He grips tighter and speeds up, their skin slapping together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That’s all it takes. Mingyu’s body pulls tight. He makes a soft, high noise that might be another attempt at Minghao’s name, then he’s coming over his fist and Minghao is fucking him through it. The clenching of his muscles makes Minghao spasm, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls out and finishes over Mingyu’s hip. The mess slides between his thighs, the white heat of pleasure fades.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Breathless, Minghao cuddles up to Mingyu, one arm slung possessively over his heaving chest to turn him onto his back. Mingyu tilts his face for a kiss, a flower seeking sunlight, and Minghao is happy to oblige.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu sighs into his mouth. His arms are heavy around Minghao’s back—almost too heavy, but he isn’t complaining. They trade sloppy kisses, loose-limbed and sated. Something unquiet in Minghao’s chest settles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For <em> weeks, </em>he laid in a strange bed and imagined that Mingyu was beside him admiring the hotel mini fridge and testing out his shaky Mandarin and being there, by his side, just a presence so safe and comforting that communication wasn’t even necessary—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu pulls back. “I’m glad you’re home.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too.” Minghao anchors a hand around Mingyu’s waist and curls into his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Right now, like this, he feels young again in the best way. They’ll need to rearrange the sheets and wipe themselves clean soon. But Minghao is content to lay still for a moment, lulled by Mingyu’s heartbeat against his skin. His eyes drift closed, slow as a sunset. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mingyu brings Minghao’s hand to his mouth and kisses the center of his wrist, kisses his palm. Kisses his knuckles above the wedding band.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!! I'm on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/klavvrites">here</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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